Speak Now
by Princess Pinky
Summary: After a certain blonde comes to town, Andre finds Madison moping at the Rivercourt and he attempts to get her out of her funk.


**A/N: **This one, as you might have been able to deduce, is after Taylor Swift's "Speak Now," on the CD of the same name.

_**Speak Now**_

The ball sprung from her fingertips, climbed through the air, but it didn't even have the decency to hit the rim, let alone the net, before it plummeted back to the Rivercourt and bounced uselessly on the cement until it didn't even have the fight left in it to do that and just _rolled_ before finally coming to the glum end at the bleachers.

"Are my eyes deceiving me? Or is that actually_ Madison_ at the Rivercourt?"

Brunette hair swished in a panic as Madison jumped and swirled around to confirm that she was no longer alone. "Andre!"

Andre Fields chuckled softly as he cut across the Rivercourt and made his way over to the stuck basketball. "Sorry," he laughed. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Madison gave a heavy sigh. "No worries."

"What are you even doing here anyway?"

"Failing at life."

"Lots of people can't make a basket," he replied softly, watching her take a seat on the bottom bleacher.

"Doesn't matter anyway," she answered, slumping her shoulders.

Andre eased down beside her and set the ball in his lap. "This about Jamie?" he asked knowingly.

"No."

"Let me rephrase: is this about _Jenny_?"

Madison glared. "No." At the raise of his eyebrow, she looked down at the chipping purple paint on her fingernails. "Maybe." She folded her hands into her arms and growled. "Why does she have to shoot hoops like nobody's business?"

"Her father's the new b-ball coach," Andre deadpanned. "I think it's kind of a given."

The brunette grunted. "Why does he have to be Tree Hill's new coach?" she whined. "Why can't he be, well, _anywhere else's_ new coach?"

Andre pressed his hand to Madison's shoulder. "You can't fault the guy for liking her," he sighed.

"I can if I want to."

"Sure," Andre agreed, "but it won't do any good. If Jamie and Jenny like each other – and they seem to – then that's how it's going to be."

"I liked him first."

Andre absently stroked the lemon pimpled texture of the basketball. "And you'll always get to say you were his first girlfriend too." He shrugged. "I get to say I was his first best friend."

"You're still his best friend."

"_Nah_, he's my _friend_. Chuck's his _best_ friend…for reasons I still don't understand."

"Chuck's a jerk."

"Yeah."

"He always gets Jamie into trouble."

"Yeah."

"He should date Jenny."

"Ye – Madison! Hey, come on now! You don't even know Jenny."

"I know she's hot and athletic and a senior and blonde and – and – and that's all I need to know!"

Andre parted his legs and let the basketball drop to the cement. It gave a couple of baby bounces before it started to roll away. He grabbed it up again and began to dribble it softly between his knees.

"Why do Scott boys always go for the blondes?"

"Mrs. Scott isn't a blonde."

"She is right now."

"Not a _natural_ blonde."

"Well…Mr. Scott is different. Anyway, look at his Uncle Lucas! It's like Lucas and Peyton all over again!"

"Well if you've been reading Lucas's books again, then you know that's not true at all." Andre stopped dribbling to stare at her. "Be fair, Maddy. You're not even with Jamie anymore. In fact, you haven't been a couple since middle school! And he's certainly not cheating on you with Jenny."

Madison let her hands drop back to her lap guiltily. "I know," she sighed. "I just…I wish she hadn't come to Tree Hill. At least when she wasn't here, I had _hope_."

"Why are you so hung up on James Lucas Scott anyway?" Andre finally asked, a bit sharply. "What is it about Scott kin that give them a capital 'The' in this town?"

"_Everything."_

"To which question: A or B?"

"Both."

"Figures." 

"Why are you here anyway?" she suddenly asked, as if only just now realizing who she'd been talking to the entire time.

"I always come to the Rivercourt about this time. I like to practice."

"Alone?"

"Why not?"

"Oh. N – no reason. I just – didn't know."

"You…wanna practice with me?"

It was Madison's turn to raise her brow. "I'm sorry, did you not see how bad I was?"

"All the more reason to practice."

Madison shook her head. "No thanks. I mean, thanks for the offer, but – but I suck at basketball; always have. English is my thing."

"Fiction?"

Madison shook her head, causing a flutter of brown hair to obscure her face. "Poetry."

"I know you always have your nose in a book, but I didn't know you're a poet."

Madison's face flushed a delicate rose. "I'm not really. I just scribble stuff. But-"

"Anything you want to share?"

Madison bit down on her lip until it hurt. "Am I really that boring?" she asked, ignoring his question. "That I _always_ have my nose in a book?"

Andre shook his head. "You're thick."

"What?"

"You're thick," he repeated. "You know, _dense_?" He reached over and lightly tapped his fist on the top of her head. "I just told you I've noticed you and asked if you'd share your poetry and then you have me if I think you're boring! What the hell, Madison?"

Madison opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish. "You've _noticed_ me?"

Andre shrugged. "Of course I've noticed you."

"And not just because I trail after Jamie all the time?"

"If I was watching Jamie, I wouldn't be watching you."

"Why didn't you ever say anything before?"

"Because you were watching Jamie. You've always been Jamie's girl, even when you're not." He shrugged. "Even if I had said something – and be honest – would it have made a difference?"

"Yes."

"Be honest."

Madison turned away. "I – don't know. Maybe. I certainly would've seen you in a different light."

"Yeah, pity light."

"Don't say that."

"Why? It's the truth."

Madison suddenly snatched the ball away from him. "I seem to recall you offering to help me practice?"

Andre grinned. His teeth nearly glowed against his dark lips. "I don't want to practice anymore," he said, snatching the ball back. "Forget basketball." He tossed the ball towards the hoop, but it didn't make it in. In fact, it didn't even hit the rim before it bounced lamely, rolled away, and just kept rolling. "I'm in a poetic mood. So show me whatcha got, Shakespeare?"

Madison gleamed. She opened her mouth, closed it, then hopped up and cleared her throat dramatically: "Roses are red and between us two, violets really aren't blue…but that doesn't matter, because, Andre Fields, I…think I'd like to go on a date with you."

"'Roses are red,' 'eh?"

Madison blushed scarlet. "It was spur of the moment, okay?"

Andre stood up and offered his hand. "That's okay, because I _know_ I'd like to go on a date with you too. Maybe you could even show me some Madison originals…if you want."

Madison slid her hand into his. _"I want."_


End file.
